


Shopgirl

by quixoticlux



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben and Rey are both soft, Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quixoticlux/pseuds/quixoticlux
Summary: Christmas Eve at the mall is hellish enough. Working at the mall on Christmas Eve is even worse. Add friends trying to pressure you into a relationship you don't want, a car that won't start, and the perfect man who's buying a ring for another woman, and not even sugar cookies and eggnog shake off these holiday blues.
Relationships: Kylo Ren & Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 17
Kudos: 155





	Shopgirl

_Down here nothing gets a chance_  
_It's a threat that's real enough_  
_We can burn this bridge or stay here_

_"Seven Day Mile" by The Frames_

* * *

_It’s only a seasonal job, it’s only a seasonal job_ , Rey repeats to herself as she weaves around the masses of shoppers in their bright puffy coats and hats like a huddle of penguins. The Drifters’ “White Christmas” is playing on the Macy’s loudspeaker, which is one of her favorite Christmas songs, but she can’t enjoy it in her rush. She’s twelve minutes late thanks to her shitty car needing a jump from Finn, being stuck behind a snowplow, and then trying to find parking at a mall on Christmas Eve.

She can’t believe how many people wait until last minute to buy presents. She bought all of hers weeks ago on Amazon (save for the scarf she knitted for Rose), and even though she knows she’s part of the reason brick-and-mortar stores are dying, at least she saved a ton of money. And as someone making only $2.25 over minimum wage with no benefits, she thinks she thinks she’s entitled to stick it to capitalism.

As she reaches the employee break room in the back, she hangs up her faux fur coat and puts her bag in her locker, grabbing a sugar cookie from a tray baked by a co-worker and set out on the fake wood table for everyone. She’s halfway out the door before she backtracks and grabs another two. She punches in at the timeclock with one in her mouth.

God, she can’t wait until her shift is over. Eight and a half hours until she’s back home, plugging in the multi-colored strung lights wrapped around her tree, which takes up a quarter of her studio apartment. She’s dreaming of a bubble bath, comfy cotton pajamas, and a mug of eggnog as a Christmas movie plays in the background.

Tomorrow, she’ll meet up with her friends at Poe and Zorii’s house in the suburbs. She’s excited to watch them all open her gifts. And eat her weight in sweet potatoes. She just hopes none of them hung mistletoe anywhere. Every year, she has to scan the ceiling and rafters every time Finn approaches her. She had to fake being interested in the architecture of the Damerons’ sunroom last year when he’d asked her what she was looking at.

It’s not that she doesn’t like Finn. He’s cute. He dresses nicely. He’s got a good job in IT. He doesn’t have any of the issues her last ex had, like commitment. In fact, he constantly talks about wanting to settle down, buy a house, and start a family. He’s a catch, or so everyone keeps telling her, much to her annoyance. She knows it would make her friends ecstatic if they were to get together, because then everyone would be paired up: Poe and Zorrii, Rose and Armitage, Kaydel and Paige, Rey and Finn. But there’s nothing there, other than friendship.

She knows that’s the basis of any good relationship. But is it selfish of her, to want that spark? To want someone who makes her want to rip their clothes off? She can’t imagine doing that to Finn. He’d probably fold every item of clothing neatly after taking it off.

She knows she’ll probably die alone, waiting for a guy who doesn’t exist outside of movies and books. But it’s not so bad being alone. She’s used to it. Better to be alone than settle. Finn deserves better than that. _She_ deserves better than that.

But late at night, she admits it would be nice to have someone in her bed. To fix her leaking sink. To jump her car when it needs it. As she sits down at the wrapping table set up by the customer service desk, she resolves not to call Finn for any “manly” thing anymore. She doesn’t want to give him false hope.

A middle-aged woman hands Rey a couple of cashmere sweaters and various cookware. The clothing is easy enough to wrap, as they go in rectangular cardboard boxes. But the wok is proving more difficult. Rey struggles with it like it’s a wild animal. She uses way more tape than necessary, the snowman wrapping paper jagged along the edges like a dog chewed it off from the roll.

After a few minutes, she presents the freshly wrapped gifts to the woman with a smile. “Happy Holidays!”

The woman gives her a death glare, her lips pursed. “Um… what the hell is this?”

Rey’s smile falters. “Is something wrong, ma’am?”

“You call _this_ wrapping? Don’t they train you here?”

“I’m sorry… I can re-do it if you’d like…” Rey tries to take the gifts back.

The woman pulls the gifts away as if Rey’s trying to steal them. “No, I think you’ve done _enough_ , don’t you? I come here all the time, I have a Macy’s card, and never have I been mistreated like this. Get me your manager.”

“Please, ma’am, I can re-do it… I’ll be more careful this time, I’ll—”

“Your manager,” her voice cuts shrilly through like glass. “ _Now_.”

Rey feels like she’s drowning. Flailing in a sea of customers, unable to pull herself away from her spot.

“Is everything all right?” A deep male voice.

Rey turns towards this voice like it’s a rope, suddenly eye-level with a broad and clearly muscular chest under a navy sweater and grey wool peacoat. She looks up. A man has stopped in the aisle next to the wrapping table, his countenance concerned, his eyes warm. As warm and brown as hot chocolate, with flecks of green. For a few long seconds, she clings to his presence like he’s pulling her into a life raft. But then she fights against it, back to the cold water. Back to reality. To shitty customers, a long shift, and a car that might not start when she gets out. To an empty apartment and scraping by. To not having a job after New Year’s. Maybe even sooner than that, if she gets fired thanks to this customer. But would that be so bad?

Her pride says no. Her upcoming rent due date disagrees.

“Excuse you,” the woman snaps at him.

“No, excuse _you_ ,” he retorts in a cold, commanding voice, exuding an air of authority. Whoever he is, he must be someone important. Whoever he is, he’s not the kind who needs to raise his voice to be heard. “You should be ashamed of yourself, throwing a tantrum like a five-year-old. And at someone who can’t fight back. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The woman’s lips fall open stupidly. “How dare you talk to me like that!” she tries her best to recover, but her voice is quieter now, unsure. “I’m going to go get my husband.”

“You do that,” the man says, pulling up his sleeve and glancing at a flash of a watch. A Breitling, it looks like. “I’ll wait right here.”

The woman huffs, her face now bright red. “Luckily for you, I have more important things to do.” She turns back to Rey. “And it’s ‘Merry Christmas,’ not ‘Happy Holidays’!” She storms off with her gifts under her arm.

Rey’s left thankful, but also incredibly embarrassed. “Thank you,” she says quietly, not looking at the man anymore. She can’t.

“It was nothing,” he says, even though it most definitely was. But he’ll never know how much. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She busies herself with the scraps of wrapping paper, waiting for him to walk away.

“I was actually wondering if”—she looks up, at him rubbing the back of his perfectly coiffed hair with one hand—“you could help me with something? At the jewelry counter. If you can, that is.”

She bristles, still raw. “Of course I can. I’m not an idiot.”

“No! I meant… if you’re not required to be here. Wrapping.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” She stands up and walks around the table, suddenly very aware of her ugly Christmas sweater with garland and little ornament bobs hanging from it. She wishes she could have dressed in a nicer outfit today. Something sleeker and more professional, like all the other women who regularly work the jewelry, perfume, and cosmetic counters. “Which case?”

He clears his throat. “The rings.”

 _Of course,_ she thinks as she walks ahead of him, feeling his looming presence glowing on her back like a warm fire. _Of course he’s buying jewelry for his girlfriend. Or wife._

She passes by a gaggle of teenage girls hanging around the Dior case, then swings behind the ring case, the metals and gems gleaming under the fluorescent lights. “Anything you’d like to see in particular?”

The man looks down at the case, scanning the merchandise. Rey takes the opportunity to drink him in. The way his wavy hair wisps around his ears. The freckles on his face, like an unknown constellation. His plush lips puffed out as he presses them together in indecision. She wishes she knew more of his quirks. She wishes she knew him.

But she never will. She’ll never see him again. And even if she happened to pass him by one day… even if he remembered her… he wouldn’t stop. She’s nothing to him but a shopgirl.

“This one.” He points to a vintage-style oval ruby encased in diamonds, set in a yellow gold band. The exact kind of ring Rey would want.

The universe is taunting her. How cruel.

Rey gingerly takes it out of the display, then places it on the black felt mat on top of the counter. She continues to study him as he holds it up in his massive hands. Hands that touch another. Hands that will never touch her.

She notices his left ring finger doesn’t have a band on it. So no wife. Yet.

“Is this an engagement ring?” she hears herself blurt out before she could stop herself. Oh God.

The man glances up, clearly surprised. “Um… yes. I think so.”

“You think so? You’re not sure?” What’s wrong with her? Has she suddenly come down with Tourette’s?

“No. I…” He clears his throat. “I think she’s expecting it. But I don’t know if I want to give it to her as that just yet.”

“A diamond would be too obviously an engagement ring,” Rey says sagely. “A ruby or emerald or sapphire could go either way. It could just be a Christmas gift.”

“Exactly,” he says. “Plus, I think diamonds are overrated. Boring.”

Rey nods, though she’s not sure if she agrees or not. She’d be happy to receive a diamond. Anything really. The only kind of jewelry she has is costume jewelry that turns her skin green if she wears it too long.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re making a great choice. It’s really beautiful.”

“You think so?” He turns it around in his fingers. Long, thick fingers that make her mind go to a filthy place. And right in the middle of a department store with children about.

She nods again, though he’s not looking at her this time.

“I really don’t know much about jewelry.”

“Neither do I,” she admits.

“I’d bring my mother along, but then—”

“—there’d be no going back. You’d _have_ to propose.”

“You know how mothers are,” he sighs.

“I actually don’t,” she blurts out, then cringes. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. _I’m_ sorry.” He presses his lips together again. “You’re just spending the holidays with your father then?”

“Don’t have one of those either.” She goes for punchy, but it just comes out kind of sad.

“Who are you spending the holidays with? I hope not alone.”

“Oh no, I’ll be with friends.”

The man nods.

“Drinking lots of mulled wine and trying to avoid mistletoe,” she quips.

“Not a fan of mistletoe?”

“Not a fan of my friends trying to set me up.”

“Ah.”

“It’s like I have to fight against everyone’s expectations of my love life. Of whom they want me to end up with. Almost like I have no say in the matter.” Why she’s revealing all this to a complete stranger, she doesn’t know. Maybe her blood sugar’s low. She probably should have eaten something more substantial today than two sugar cookies. Like a salad. His girlfriend probably eats nothing but salads.

“I know the feeling,” he mutters cryptically as he stares down at the ring, almost as if it’s the One Ring and he has to throw it into the fires of Mount Doom. But maybe she’s projecting.

“You could always wait on it, you know. We have a sale on cashmere sweaters.”

“You’re good at this,” he says with a small smile. “Knowing what I’m thinking.”

“It’s what makes me so good at my job,” she lies. She does this weird little tilt with her body against the glass as she says it.

“You’ve worked here long?”

“Um… no. Just a few weeks. I got hired right before Thanksgiving. I’m just seasonal.”

“Oh. What are you going to do after?” Rey opens her mouth, but then he says, “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. It’s none of my business.” He goes back to inspecting the ring.

“It’s okay. I, uh… I don’t actually know.”

The man nods as he peers at her again, as if he’s inspecting her now, too. “Well… what do you want to do?”

Rey thinks about it. “I don’t know.”

“That can’t be true.”

“I’ve always been kind of a drifter,” she admits. “I’ve worked as a barista, a bartender, a mechanic… I really love working on vintage cars. Restoring them.”

Something dark passes over his features like a shadow. But the store is brightly lit. “My dad is a mechanic,” he mutters.

“Oh?” That surprises her. “You look like you come from money.” Oh shit. Did she say that part out loud?

The man looks just as surprised. “I do, kind of. My mother’s side, anyway.”

Rey goes back to not being able to look at him anymore. She pretends to arrange a plastic advertisement on the countertop.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he says. “You can ask me whatever you like. It’s refreshing.”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

His smile grows wider. Definitely a smirk. “Oh? Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing,” she says, although she most definitely is.

“I’m not complaining. It’s cute.”

Her heart flutters in her chest. She tries to ignore it. “It’s just hot in here.” She pulls on the neck of her sweater as proof.

“It is,” he agrees.

“And I’m thirsty, so…”

“You should get some water.”

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not,” he says with kindness and concern, but there’s something else underneath. Something gently commanding. “You should go on break.”

“That’d be nice, but I think my boss would disagree.”

The dark shadow comes back. It’s almost imperceptible, but she’s standing right in front of him. “Who is your boss?”

She almost doesn’t tell him. But she finds herself answering, despite the trouble it’s definitely going to cause. “Plutt.”

“If you need it”—he places the ring down on the black felt—“You should just go.”

“I'll have to wait a few more hours into my shift.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he assures her.

“I’ll get fired.”

“You won’t. _Plutt_ ”—he says the name like it’s something disgusting in his mouth—“would be a fool to make an enemy of me.”

“And why’s that?”

The man’s eyes flicker down her face, almost as if he’s not sure if he wants to tell her. “Trust me.”

“I don’t know,” she says, even though she does. She doesn’t know why, but she does. _He’s a stranger_ , Rey reminds herself. _He could be a serial killer._ “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Ben.”

“I’m Rey.”

“I know.” At her quizzical look, he motions to his chest. It takes her a second to realize he’s miming her name tag.

“Oh! Right.” She looks down at the ring, small and ignored but still a massive obstacle between them. “Did you want to buy that?”

She watches him as he stares at it, praying to the universe he says no. A lifetime of fantasies flashes through her head: Ben dumping his girlfriend and asking her out, their first date, a kiss at the door. Entire days spent in bed together, meeting the parents, moving into his place. A ring box opened. _Yes_.

But with one quick nod, all those dreams dissipate into smoke.

“Did you want it gift wrapped?” she half-jokes as she places it gingerly into the box.

“No, that’s okay, thank you.”

“Will that be cash or charge? You can save 20% today if you open a Macy’s card,” she recites flatly on autopilot.

He presents a black American Express card.

At the register, she scans the small tag hanging from the ring. $2,899.99. With her back to him now, she allows her shoulders to slump, her face to fall. Her thumb caresses his embossed name on the card—the closest she’ll ever come to touching Benjamin C. Solo.

She hands him his card back, along with the ring in a small Macy’s bag. “Thank you for shopping at Macy’s. Have a happy holiday.”

“It’s ‘Merry Christmas’!” he mocks the woman from earlier, grinning playfully. Already he’s a few steps away from the counter, seconds away from being swallowed into the crowd and disappearing forever.

Rey smiles back, but her heart’s not in it.

*

Just as predicted, the damn car won’t start. Rey could fix it herself, if she still worked in a shop and had the money for a new battery. She knows she could ask her friends for the money, but her pride stops her every time. She’s spent her entire life making it on her own. If she starts asking for help, then soon she’ll be too soft, too dependent on other people, and people always leave. If she loses her sharp edges, she’ll be completely helpless when she finds herself on the streets again having to hustle. An object in motion stays in motion.

Fuck, she has no idea how to get home now, and it’s below freezing. Worse, it’s a wet kind of cold, with dirty slush along the edges of the pavement. She rubs her hands together and blows into them.

On the torn leather of the passenger seat, her phone lights up with a text.

 **Finn:** _Hey peanut, out of work yet? Wondering if you wanna come over and watch Xmas movies._

Her frozen fingers hover over it. It would be so easy, to fall back into old habits. To depend on him like a boyfriend, save for the sex part. Because then the sex will inevitably follow, and while she can fake it for a while, she knows she’ll end up breaking his heart. And then everyone will hate her, and she’ll go back to having no friends at all.

Rey screws her eyes shut, leaning her head against the headrest. It’s so cold. Maybe if she just rests a little, she can figure out what to do…

A car horn blaring on the highway running adjacent to the mall snaps her out of that stupid idea.

With a huff, she climbs out of the car, slamming the spray-painted door shut. She then speed-walks across the parking lot, crossing a two-laned street to get to Coruscant Diner, the neon “u” and “a” burned out.

The door chimes as she opens it. Instantly, she’s hit with a blast of warmth. Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” is playing cheerily throughout the mostly-empty space.

The waitress behind the counter hands her a laminated menu and tells her she can sit anywhere. Rey chooses a booth in the front, sinking down into the bright red vinyl seat and shrugging out of her coat. She stares blankly out of the wide windows, decompressing from the day. It’s almost five, the world cast in pale blue light that’s beautiful but won’t last.

She’s considering whether she’s willing to splurge on food or just order coffee when something catches her eyes. Or rather, someone.

Benjamin C. Solo, sitting a few booths down, facing her. He holds up his mug of coffee and smiles.

This time, the smile she gives back is genuine.

He motions to the empty seat across from him. 

_He's going to be married,_ she reminds herself. But what's the harm in being friends? Plenty of married people have friends of the opposite sex. She's close with Poe, and Zorii never once got jealous. She ignores the fact she's never fantasized about sleeping with Poe.

But it's Christmas Eve, and Ben's here alone. He clearly has family—and a girlfriend—to spend the holiday with. He must like being alone. Or maybe he’s just used to it, like she is.

Rey gets up, bringing her coat with her as she walks the few steps over to Ben's booth, feeling pulled towards him by some invisible force.

When she sits down across from him, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Like they’ve planned all along on meeting here. She knows when she calls Rose later, her best friend is going to call it fate, the hopeless romantic she is. And Rey will call it a tragedy.

But she tries not to think about that right now. The furthest in the future she wants to think about is the cheeseburger she’s decided she’s definitely going to order.

"Of all the places in all the world..." he says.

She rolls her eyes at the cheesy _Casablanca_ reference, but she's still smiling. "Yeah, right across from the mall, where I work."

The waitress comes by with a carafe of coffee to top Ben's off, then pours it into the extra mug Rey’s turned over. Rey tries not to laugh at his look of disgust when she pours three cups of creamer and a long dash of sugar into it. "Let me guess... You drink it black."

"I do," he says.

"I love diner coffee. It must be the shape of the mug."

"It's burnt, but hey, it's caffeine." He takes a long sip. "I make better coffee at home using a French Press. The trick is to grind the beans right before brewing."

Rey wrinkles her nose. "Oh, so you're one of those."

"One of 'those'?"

"A coffee snob," she says playfully.

"Ah. Yeah, I guess." Another sip. “I’ll make you a cup sometime. Then you’ll become one too.”

Rey ignores all the promise in the word _sometime_. “Oh yeah? Sounds like a cult.”

Ben smiles.

“So, avoiding the family?”

“Yeah,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “My uncle’s over at my mother’s and he’s just… a lot.”

Rey nods in understanding, even though she doesn’t have an uncle. Or maybe she does, somewhere out there. The only family’s she’s ever known are her friends.

“So what about you?” he asks.

“Just got off work. I was about to head home when I realized my car wouldn’t start.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Oh no, that’s okay.”

“I don’t mind, Rey. I’d rather know you’re safe. I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t.”

She rolls her eyes. “Really, losing sleep over a stranger?”

“Well, you’re not exactly a stranger anymore, are you?”

She takes a gulp of her coffee to hide her smile. “Touché.”

“Remember I told you my father’s a mechanic? He runs a shop not too far from here. I could ask him to take a look tomorrow.”

“On Christmas? No way.”

“Trust me, he wouldn’t mind. He’d rather spend his time hunched inside an engine than with his own family.” There’s a tinge of bitterness whenever Ben brings up his dad, so she’s careful not to touch that subject.

“I mean, if you’re sure…”

The waitress comes back and takes Rey’s order. After she leaves, Rey wonders, “You’re not going to order anything?”

“I’ll eat later. Knowing my mother, she’s got a plate for me in the fridge, and if I don’t eat it all, she’ll think I’m starving to death.”

Rey tries not to be jealous. “So… I’m kind of burning with curiosity over something.”

“What?”

“You said earlier that my boss would be a fool to make an enemy of you. Why’s that?”

“Oh.” He looks down sheepishly. “My mother’s a state senator. She takes a special interest in labor law.”

“Wow, seriously?”

He nods.

“Are you in politics, too?”

“God, no.” He takes another sip of his black coffee. “I’m an attorney.”

A morbid curiosity has Rey blurting out, “And your girlfriend?”

Ben shifts uncomfortably on the vinyl seat. “She works in PR.”

And Rey works in retail. For two more weeks, anyway. And then she’ll be unemployed yet again. She’d be an idiot to think Ben would ever be interested in her. Even if he didn’t have someone, he’s so out of her league they might as well be different species.

“So you said you’re into vintage cars? My dad has a 1972 Ford Falcon you might find interesting…” He trails off as his iPhone lights up with a call. It’s upside-down, but Rey can tell the woman in the photo is beautiful.

She tries not to read too much into it when he presses IGNORE.

*

Snow glides gently across the windshield.

Rey sinks into the heated seats of Ben’s Volvo, enjoying the smell of a freshly-cleaned car combined with his cologne. She’d surprised—she thought a hotshot lawyer who dresses as nicely as he does would drive a Porsche or something. But the Volvo _is_ black. That one she guessed right.

They’re quiet the entire ride to her place, but it’s a comfortable sort of quiet. Then only sounds are The Frames' "Seven Day Mile" drifting out of the speakers and the electronic voice of the navigation.

When he pulls up to the curb in front of her building, she finds herself unable to open the door. “You really don’t have to have your dad look at my car tomorrow.”

“At the very least, he can tow it to his shop and then look at it the day after. And if it’s a lost cause, I’m sure he’ll be able to find you a deal on another one.”

“Thank you,” she says for the millionth time. Not only for the offer but for her meal that he paid for. She doesn’t know why she’s able to accept charity from him and not Finn, but it feels nice to be taken care of. To let someone in. Even if it’s just for a little while.

“It’s nothing,” he insists.

“You’re too kind.”

“I’m really not, trust me.”

“You are. Why else would you help me, other than the Christmas spirit?”

Ben runs a hand through his hair. A tic she’s grown to notice over the course of the night. “I don’t know. I guess… I like you.”

Rey stops herself from asking if he “like-likes” her like a schoolgirl. “I like you too, Ben.”

He looks shocked that she would. For a second there, she could have sworn he glanced down at her lips, but it must’ve been her imagination.

In the center console, Ben’s phone lights up.

Rey reaches over and grabs her bag from the backseat, which is right next to the small Macy’s bag from earlier.

“Thanks for everything,” she says softly with a blue tinge of finality, knowing that this is the last time she’ll ever see him. Tomorrow morning he’ll wake up next to his beautiful girlfriend, and in the sobering light of day, he’ll realize everything he has. Who in their right mind would trade in a sleek Rolls-Royce for an old, beat-up Saturn?

And then she’s stepping out of his car, the cold hitting her like a thousand needles.

When she opens her front door, she greets her orange tabby BB, then plugs in the Christmas string lights. As she sits down on the couch and pulls her legs up, she gazes out the window as the snow drifts softly down, blanketing the city in white. She doesn’t turn on any other lights. She doesn’t turn on the TV. She just wants to sit here, existing in a peaceful silence that echoes in her bones, in the spaces between what is and what could have been.


End file.
